


A New Season

by thinlizzy2



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hopeful Ending, Oral Sex, Past Incest, References to canonical character deaths, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, reference to past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:04:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/pseuds/thinlizzy2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a strange and horrible pattern, Jaime realized.  He would lose a child, and then turn to a woman for comfort.  And since, in Myrcella, he had lost of the best of his children, perhaps it made sense that he had sought out the very best of women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Season

Brienne was easy enough to find. 

Jaime had known that she would be. Loyal, oath-bound creature that she was, she would certainly be in the north seeking or defending Sansa Stark. So he hadn't bothered looking on Tarth - hadn't bothered with much at all, to be honest. The only act to which he had given any care since his ship had landed was the burial of his daughter. He had dug the hole for Myrcella himself, ignoring all of Trystane's offers of help. He made certain there was enough earth on top of her to keep her body safe from grave robbers and the other ghouls that might seek to disturb it. It wasn't until he had risen from his knees and brushed the dirt from his hands that he reflected that perhaps this was the _only_ way for a woman to be safe in Westeros, dead and gone and with nothing left to fear.

 _Brienne._ The pull that he had been feeling ever since he bid her goodbye was growing stronger still. He had to go to her.

He sent Trystane away with a few hired swords and not a word of farewell. Perhaps they would take him to King's Landing as he ordered, where his sister or whoever had seized power by now could do whatever they liked with him. Perhaps they would slit his throat and leave him for the crows. Jaime did not care at all.

He rode north as the sun was setting.

Westeros was a lawless place now. There had been time when the roads had been, if not exactly safe, then _safer_. A man could have had the illusion of safety, once. Now he was accosted at almost every turn by bandits who would kill him for a few coppers and the joy of the act. He slaughtered them all, nearly effortlessly. His only regret was that he was sending such wretched company to plague his daughter in the afterlife.

Once he neared Winterfell, it was only a matter of asking questions and handing over silver. "A tall woman in good armour, freakishly tall, and as strong as three men." That was how he phrased it, and innkeepers knew who he meant. It was Brienne's curse that she would always be so easy to track down. But never mind - he would be with her soon and then it wouldn't matter who else came looking.

He didn't say _eyes like sapphires_ or _a heart that burns like the sun_. He was sure that no one else but he would notice these elements of Brienne of Tarth. 

Or perhaps he just wanted to believe it, to keep those parts of her as his and his alone.

He found her a few leagues down the road from the fourth inn where he made inquiries. Resourceful wench that she was, she had cleared away much of the snow and found a good solid tent to pitch against the elements. She was sitting by a small campfire, staring into the flames as her horse grazed on what meager grass it could find nearby. He could have watched her for hours, drinking in her awkward posture, her contemplation and her sweet familiarity. But a snapped twig alerted her to his presence, and then she was on her feet with a sword in her hand. To avoid getting spitted, he stepped into the clearing and drew back his hood.

She lowered her sword as she stared at him. "Ser Jaime?"

"Brienne." He wanted so much to take her in his arms. In truth, he wanted to simply _take_ her, right there in the snow and dead branches and grey leaves. He was very nearly at her side, his left arm was already reaching for her waist to draw her close, when he remembered that - unbelievably - they had never actually been lovers. 

He dropped his hand.

But he was close enough for her to see the pain in his eyes and what she beheld must have shock her. "By the Seven", she whispered, drawing back in horror. "What's become of you?"

 _So much,_ he thought. _And all of it for the worse._ "My daughter," he began. "Myrcella..."

A rush of footsteps cut him off. "Ser Lady!" The voice was triumphant. "The river's still running!" Podrick Payne appeared, clutching a flask of water and a woven basket holding a few small fish. "I caught-" His voice faded away as he took in the scene in front of him. "My lord?"

Brienne stepped away from Jaime and he wanted to curse at the sudden distance. She ducked into her tent and reemerged with her purse. Jaime remembered filling that with gold for her, so that she could undertake her quest with everything she would need. Those had been the days when he had thought that the world they lived in might be salvaged. The days when he had believed he could send Brienne away and still go on living.

Oh, but he'd been a fool.

She shook a few coins loose and handed them to her squire. "Return to the inn where we last stayed," she ordered him. "Leave the fish here, and get yourself some mutton and a room for the night. I will let you know when we need to move on."

Pod counted the coins. "Not three rooms, ser?"

Brienne glanced over at Jaime. "We will make our own arrangements."

They waited until they could no longer hear Pod crunching away through the snow. Then Brienne drew him close to the fire, although Jaime would have sworn it threw off no warmth at all. He huddled close to her, their shoulders pressed together. Only there was the heat he sought.

Brienne's eyes met his, an endless expanse of blue that a man could drown in. "Tell me what's happened," she commanded. 

And so he did.

They cooked and ate the fish as he told her his story, counting off the atrocities with their tiny bones. The stars came out, one at a time, as the hours passed. By the time he was finished the sky was full of tiny lights, the fish were all gone and he was weeping openly. 

"She said she was glad," Jaime snarled in the darkness. "She said she was glad I was her father - _me_ , and she was _glad of it_. And then she died in my arms and I could do nothing. Nothing at all! She was there one heartbeat and then she was gone and - Gods!" He wished so much he could stop speaking. His tale was done, but the words just kept spilling out of him. "Gods... _Brienne._ " 

She wrapped her strong arms around him, and he was reminded of the bath that they had shared, when her strength had been the only thing keeping him from drowning.

"I'm sorry." From the sound of her voice it seemed that she was crying as well, but the fire had gone out and it was hard to tell by starlight. "I know it means nothing, but Jaime I am so sorry." She held him tightly.

"It's not nothing." Without thinking, he pressed his lips against her scarred jaw. He felt her breath catching. He kissed her skin again. Yes, she was crying; he could taste her salt. "It's not nothing, Brienne."

She turned her head, just a fraction, but it was enough for him to reach her mouth. He kissed her deep and full, on the lips that the world said were too large and the mouth that was mocked for being too wide. As if there were such a thing as too much generosity. He needed a mouth to kiss, and Brienne provided all that and more.

He couldn't believe he had never kissed her before. Everything about her embrace felt so familiar, so right. It was different from kissing Cersei, in ways he couldn't define. It was everything he needed, and nowhere near enough.

With his good hand, he groped for her breast, wanting more of her skin and warmth and life. Instead, he encountered her armour. With a frustrated moan he pulled away from her lips. "I'll need you to help me get it off," he murmered. Loathe to lose contact for more than a second, he stroked her inner thigh. "I can't do it one handed."

Brienne hesitated, and Jaime could not read her silence. "Jaime, I would help you, if I could." She put her hand on his, and although she did not force him to remove it, she did still his caresses. "But will this help?"

It was a strange and horrible pattern, Jaime realized in an instant. He would lose a child, and then turn to a woman for comfort. And since, in Myrcella, he had lost of the best of his children, perhaps it made sense that he had sought out the very best of women.

Joffery had been a horrible thing, twisted and irredeemable. And what Jaime had done with Cersei, _to_ Cersei, after the death of their oldest son had been equally horrid. He could not do it again, not for Myrcella and not to Brienne. This would happen at her will, or not at all.

"No," Jaime admitted. "She is dead and I have failed her and nothing will help that. But I still want to lie with you, Brienne. Do it because you want me too, not to help me or to heal me, but because you desire me as I do you. Or if you don't, then refuse me."

She rose to her feet and Jaime felt his heart clenching. But then she extended an arm. "Come with me," Brienne said. And she led him into her tent.

It was cold in there, despite the nominal protection from the elements, but Brienne or Podrick had spread good furs on the ground to protect against the worst of the chill. Jaime lay back against them and watched as Brienne divested herself of her armour. Like any good knight, she took care with it, wrapping it in linen and placing it away from the edges of the tent so that it might stay dry. But when she returned to his side in just her tunic and breeches he did not think of knights or armour or warfare. He thought of men and ladies and how unfair it was that he should get to hold this remarkable woman in his arms. And then _she_ kissed _him_ this time, her tongue tentatively tracing his lips, and he could not think of anything more at all.

Even with her armour gone she had to help him with her clothes. But she did so willingly, undoing laces and buttons until she lay naked against him. With his fingers, and then his mouth, he traced the vast network of scars across her torso, learning her by touch. Her encounter with the bear had left permanent reminders on her shoulder. He stroked them softly, wary of hurting her, and then moved downwards. "What's this?" he asked her, rubbing his thumb against a faint raised line beneath her right breast. "Who gave you this?"

Brienne was breathless when she answered. "My fencing instructor. I was overconfident, and he taught me the error of that." 

Jaime kissed the mark, and then found another along her side. "And this?"

"A melee, I think. When I was younger. I don't remember exactly." 

Jaime kissed that one too, for the girl she had been and the woman she was. He traveled down her body until he found a newer scar, near the top of her thigh, tantalizing close to where he wanted most to be. "And this one? "

Brienne laughed throatily. "You gave me that."

"Did I?" He remembered trying to escape her, with no idea then that he would someday do anything at all to get close to her again. "Then let me give you this, as well." And his slid his hand over, parting her sex with his remaining fingers before pressing his mouth to the soft pink flesh there.

Brienne gasped and arched off the ground, so Jaime lifted her thighs over his shoulders, pinning her down so that he could set the pace. Lovingly, he licked at her outer lips, tasting the evidence of her desire for him. Nearly overwhelmed with lust himself, he allowed himself to give her a small bite, smiling against her when he heard the pleasure in her cry. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he took the tiny nub at the center of her cleft between his lips, licking and sucking at it as he slipped two fingers deep inside of her. Brienne's shouts grew louder and more frequent as he nibbled at her until she screamed into the night, her heels digging into his back, and then lay still.

Jaime crawled up her body, lying flush against her, and kissed her deeply. He knew that she could taste herself on his lips and tongue, and the idea aroused him beyond measure. He ground his cock, still constrained by his breeches, against her side. "What will will you give me?" he whispered.

"I can't-" Brienne started, and Jaime's heart fell. But her face looked more embarrassed than regretful. "The time of my cycle, it's not safe. But there are other things I can do. I've heard about them."

 _Let me do it anyway_ , he nearly begged her. _Let me put my bastard inside of you. To replace what I've lost. So that you can never leave me. Let me do it._ He bit back the words. Myrcella was irreplaceable, and he wanted Brienne by his side because she chose to be there, not because she had to be.

"Will you use your mouth?" Jaime whispered. "Like I did for you?"

Brienne flushed a deep red but she nodded, wriggling down so that she straddled his knees. She unlaced his breeches and pulled his cock free of them, making a small noise as it twitched in her hand. He realised that this could very probably be the first time she had ever held a man like this and he thought for a moment of words that might reassure her, but then she lowered her head and the only sounds he could make were groans.

Brienne took her time, kissing and licking at his shaft, exploring and perhaps unsure. Jaime didn't want to rush her - even as his body begged him for release - but when she caressed along the length of the big vein underneath his cock with her tongue he found he could wait no longer. "Please," he moaned, his fist tightening in her hair. "Suck me."

Brienne complied, with all the dedication for which she was known. Jaime bucked shamelessly into her face, again and again, desperate for more of the heat and wetness and friction all around him. "You," he panted incoherently. "All of you. You forever." And then Brienne made a soft sobbing sound. He ached for her, even as he felt the vibrations around his cock and he was coming, helpless as a green youth, deep inside her sweet mouth.

Once the red cloud behind his eyelids dispersed, he reached for her again, drawing her up to rest against his shoulder. She nestled into his neck. "Was I all right?" she asked, and he couldn't help laughing out loud.

"Is dragonfire hot?" He rubbed his hand along the length of her side, reveling in her size. Brienne was so real, so solid, that it would be impossible for her to just slip away again. He wouldn't let her. "You _are_ good," he promised her. "More than that, you are goodness. The only goodness I have left. My goodness."

He was surprised to feel her grow tense against him. "I'm not.' She pulled away and sat up. "I should have told you before, Jaime. I killed Stannis."

"Well... of course." Jaime stared at her, uncomprehending He was still high on the love they had made and wanted her back in his arms, right now. What was this? "You swore to it."

She shook her head. "I didn't have to. I just did it. Because. And I let Sansa slip away from me. Jaime, if you came here hoping I could somehow be-" Brienne's words cut off. "I can't."

He shook his head. She was still such an honourable wench, after all that they had been through. And then he knew what he had to do, as much as he loathed the thought. He had to tell her everything as well.

"I hurt my sister very badly, Brienne. I hurt her in a way I can never make amends for. The rest of it with her, it's done. I swear that to you. But I wish I had not caused her the pain I did. And I sent an innocent boy to an almost certain death." Jaime had not thought of Trystane from the moment they parted company, but the guilt came rushing in now. "I did this after I knew better. After I knew _you_."

He watched as Brienne took that in. She gave a slight nod, accepting it. "We have to fix this. That of it which can be fixed."

"Together." Jaime understood now. He could not expect Brienne to take away his pain, not even with all her strength and all her love. But possibly, with her, he could learn to live with it. "Can we fix it together?"

"Together." Brienne lay back down beside him. She turned on her side, to look him in the eyes. "You have my oath." She kissed him, perhaps to seal it.

An oath from her was worth more than a wedding vow from another woman. Jaime's heart sang with the clarity of it. He kissed her back, gently. "And you have mine." He checked her eyes for understanding, and was satisfied with what he saw there. "Sleep now," he whispered softly. "We will keep our promises in the morning."


End file.
